CHAPTER SIX: In The Blood
View point Gourry
I walked up over to my water canteen and splashed the remnants over my face; to wash away the sweat and fatigue. Not that fighting was a tiring activity against newby's like these; it was just stressful. Nobles weren't used to being beaten by 'common trash' like me. They usually had their servants to practice on, and since they couldn't fight back, the nobles always won.
Bugger that for a joke.
I would have to say that today would probably stay at around the top 5 of my best and worst memories. Having a timely emotional outburst with someone… I don't know, someone who made me burn, versus putting up with a bunch of idiots waving their hands around saying, 'OOOHHHH, it's not fair, that's not allowed!' Gods, what do they expect? Amelia let me beat the hell out of them because they've never been up against a real warrior. I don't think they've ever even seen one! Every time I get their sword on the ground, in the air, pinned behind their backs (whatever!); they scream like babies.
Looking at them all, I'd have to say that there would be one or two decent fighters (not including the old pros, the ones who fought when chivalry was in, who sit back and laugh at the others). The best thing about this is that the good ones are all girls; they know they have to get serious. It can be a hard profession to get into when you're female, you have to be twice as good as your male competitors and because of that, women often end up generals or captains.
I'm not just saying that in a compassionate sort of way, some of them nearly had me spiked! They get around ten for enthusiasm. Oh well, despite the few good ones, I don't feel like fighting anymore, it's a bit pointless against these bozos. I wanna check on Lina now. I wonder if she's feeling ok…
Two hands close around my eyes and I can't see. I place my fingers over theirs and try to pull them away; they feel long and withered. I tug a little harder but this person isn't buying it, so I let go and feel out with my spirit. I recall this person's aura; it feels sinister yet comforting. I don't know how good a judge of character I am but I can tell much from an opponent by their battle spirit. I don't have a patch of Lina's magical intelligence but I give a good estimate on fighters and competitors in my field. I do not want to fight this one… I know him.
I feel a willowy voice curve its way into my ear, scraping along my nerves and sending a crackle of fear down my spine that I suppress. I can show no fear to this entity, he is serious, 'Hello brother,' he whispers, 'Nice to see you again.' My blood freezes in my veins and I feel the memories long suppressed rush through me, 'Voran…' The creature giggles in a hideous manner, one that I should expect from him, though it shatters my soul every time I hear it.
Hello baby brother
The words seep into my brain. This explains how he is here, 'Mazoku, are you Voran?' I turn to face my nightmare and feel my emotions shut down. Voran does not look like he used to… his face is covered in scars, several that I recognise, and his blonde hair is short and dirty. I look into his eyes to find one filled in blood, with the other a sickly pale blue; wounded along with his flesh in a downward sword stroke. A cut that I myself delivered.
All in all, better than what I was expecting.
Voran pouts at me, 'It's Devorante, Gourry, Devorante!' He begins to circle around me and I slowly to turn so I can keep my eyes on him. 'Do you not remember your heritage brother? We come from a fighting family, may as well take the real meaning of my name! It has more flare.' I glare at him, he makes me sick to my stomach, 'Burning ambition? You're no such thing, you're just a sicko.' Devorante allows his mouth to curve into a grimace, 'How dare you insult your brother!' He disappears for a moment and appears behind me. Before I have a chance to move, he punches me in the gut from both sides.
I feel my ribs crack under the pressure of his twin blows and I fall to the ground with the sensation of blood trickling down my lips and sides. I feel the bile rise in my throat. 'It certainly HAS been fifteen years hasn't it brother? You've been getting airs!' I look up to see everyone in the fighting yards frozen in horror. Zelgadiss pushes his way through the crowds and draws his sword, 'I wouldn't if I were you, stone boy.' Zelgadiss halts and lowers his sword, 'What are you doing?' Devorante smiles disgustingly, 'I'm having a little talk with Gourry here, been a long time hasn't it Gourry?' I force myself up as the pain sends waves of agony through my system, 'Fuck you, Voran.' Devorante glares at me, 'I told you not to use that name!'
I pull my sword from its scabbard and deflect a furious blow from Devorante's blade. He sends lightening swings towards me and I bloke each one; he may have improved his technique but I always was better than him. He has also let rage cloud his judgement, not a good thing in a mazoku; it is making his technique slow and clumsy. I push my energy into my sword and send the point burning into his flesh. He roars at me in rage and sends a flailing stroke at my middle, which I dodge.
Devorante straightens as he moves away from me; he wipes the blood coming from his wound down his blade and smiles, 'Good bye, brother.' He disappears. I back against the wall waiting for him to come at me again. I realise my mistake to late. Devorante appears in front of me in a lightning move, his sword pushed to the hilt through my body, between my clavicle and scapula. The sword is pushed fully into the rock behind me, by some horrid trick. 'You murdering bastard…' I manage to say between a wave of pain, 'I'll kill you again, I swear it!' All trace of previous injury gone, Devorante looks at me with the utmost dispassion, 'That was the problem the first time, you never were good at getting the job done.'
I force my body to remain standing, if I let myself collapse now my clavicle will break; leaving my left side to collapse. Devorante smiles as I let out a small grunt of pain, 'You should know Gourry, a good mercenary never lets his guard down,' he turns and gives me a final glance, 'Goodbye baby brother.'
And then he left me to die as the people swarmed around me and I could no longer breathe. I put my free hand around the sword blade, 'Come one Gourry,' I told myself, 'One last effort,' I did not scream as I felt the blade release from the rock and muscle, nor as I fell to the ground with my blood forming a pool on the cobbles.
[^-^^-^^-^^-^]
I do not own slayers: I do appreciate reviews (good and bad folks) next chapter coming soon. Speaking of which prepare to see and old character (ooo) and devorante means something like burning ambition in French (lost the latin, would have been more appropriate too….
Hoped you liked it! amalphia
View point Gourry
I walked up over to my water canteen and splashed the remnants over my face; to wash away the sweat and fatigue. Not that fighting was a tiring activity against newby's like these; it was just stressful. Nobles weren't used to being beaten by 'common trash' like me. They usually had their servants to practice on, and since they couldn't fight back, the nobles always won.
Bugger that for a joke.
I would have to say that today would probably stay at around the top 5 of my best and worst memories. Having a timely emotional outburst with someone… I don't know, someone who made me burn, versus putting up with a bunch of idiots waving their hands around saying, 'OOOHHHH, it's not fair, that's not allowed!' Gods, what do they expect? Amelia let me beat the hell out of them because they've never been up against a real warrior. I don't think they've ever even seen one! Every time I get their sword on the ground, in the air, pinned behind their backs (whatever!); they scream like babies.
Looking at them all, I'd have to say that there would be one or two decent fighters (not including the old pros, the ones who fought when chivalry was in, who sit back and laugh at the others). The best thing about this is that the good ones are all girls; they know they have to get serious. It can be a hard profession to get into when you're female, you have to be twice as good as your male competitors and because of that, women often end up generals or captains.
I'm not just saying that in a compassionate sort of way, some of them nearly had me spiked! They get around ten for enthusiasm. Oh well, despite the few good ones, I don't feel like fighting anymore, it's a bit pointless against these bozos. I wanna check on Lina now. I wonder if she's feeling ok…
Two hands close around my eyes and I can't see. I place my fingers over theirs and try to pull them away; they feel long and withered. I tug a little harder but this person isn't buying it, so I let go and feel out with my spirit. I recall this person's aura; it feels sinister yet comforting. I don't know how good a judge of character I am but I can tell much from an opponent by their battle spirit. I don't have a patch of Lina's magical intelligence but I give a good estimate on fighters and competitors in my field. I do not want to fight this one… I know him.
I feel a willowy voice curve its way into my ear, scraping along my nerves and sending a crackle of fear down my spine that I suppress. I can show no fear to this entity, he is serious, 'Hello brother,' he whispers, 'Nice to see you again.' My blood freezes in my veins and I feel the memories long suppressed rush through me, 'Voran…' The creature giggles in a hideous manner, one that I should expect from him, though it shatters my soul every time I hear it.
Hello baby brother
The words seep into my brain. This explains how he is here, 'Mazoku, are you Voran?' I turn to face my nightmare and feel my emotions shut down. Voran does not look like he used to… his face is covered in scars, several that I recognise, and his blonde hair is short and dirty. I look into his eyes to find one filled in blood, with the other a sickly pale blue; wounded along with his flesh in a downward sword stroke. A cut that I myself delivered.
All in all, better than what I was expecting.
Voran pouts at me, 'It's Devorante, Gourry, Devorante!' He begins to circle around me and I slowly to turn so I can keep my eyes on him. 'Do you not remember your heritage brother? We come from a fighting family, may as well take the real meaning of my name! It has more flare.' I glare at him, he makes me sick to my stomach, 'Burning ambition? You're no such thing, you're just a sicko.' Devorante allows his mouth to curve into a grimace, 'How dare you insult your brother!' He disappears for a moment and appears behind me. Before I have a chance to move, he punches me in the gut from both sides.
I feel my ribs crack under the pressure of his twin blows and I fall to the ground with the sensation of blood trickling down my lips and sides. I feel the bile rise in my throat. 'It certainly HAS been fifteen years hasn't it brother? You've been getting airs!' I look up to see everyone in the fighting yards frozen in horror. Zelgadiss pushes his way through the crowds and draws his sword, 'I wouldn't if I were you, stone boy.' Zelgadiss halts and lowers his sword, 'What are you doing?' Devorante smiles disgustingly, 'I'm having a little talk with Gourry here, been a long time hasn't it Gourry?' I force myself up as the pain sends waves of agony through my system, 'Fuck you, Voran.' Devorante glares at me, 'I told you not to use that name!'
I pull my sword from its scabbard and deflect a furious blow from Devorante's blade. He sends lightening swings towards me and I bloke each one; he may have improved his technique but I always was better than him. He has also let rage cloud his judgement, not a good thing in a mazoku; it is making his technique slow and clumsy. I push my energy into my sword and send the point burning into his flesh. He roars at me in rage and sends a flailing stroke at my middle, which I dodge.
Devorante straightens as he moves away from me; he wipes the blood coming from his wound down his blade and smiles, 'Good bye, brother.' He disappears. I back against the wall waiting for him to come at me again. I realise my mistake to late. Devorante appears in front of me in a lightning move, his sword pushed to the hilt through my body, between my clavicle and scapula. The sword is pushed fully into the rock behind me, by some horrid trick. 'You murdering bastard…' I manage to say between a wave of pain, 'I'll kill you again, I swear it!' All trace of previous injury gone, Devorante looks at me with the utmost dispassion, 'That was the problem the first time, you never were good at getting the job done.'
I force my body to remain standing, if I let myself collapse now my clavicle will break; leaving my left side to collapse. Devorante smiles as I let out a small grunt of pain, 'You should know Gourry, a good mercenary never lets his guard down,' he turns and gives me a final glance, 'Goodbye baby brother.'
And then he left me to die as the people swarmed around me and I could no longer breathe. I put my free hand around the sword blade, 'Come one Gourry,' I told myself, 'One last effort,' I did not scream as I felt the blade release from the rock and muscle, nor as I fell to the ground with my blood forming a pool on the cobbles.
[^-^^-^^-^^-^]
I do not own slayers: I do appreciate reviews (good and bad folks) next chapter coming soon. Speaking of which prepare to see and old character (ooo) and devorante means something like burning ambition in French (lost the latin, would have been more appropriate too….
Hoped you liked it! amalphia
